


Steady Hands

by TsarinaTorment



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Also to stop him taking over the fic, Because it's me and I couldn't resist, Boats and Ships, Explosives, Family, Friendship, Gen, Jenga, Minor Scott Whump, Puzzles, Secret Santa 2020, Trapped In A Sinking Boat, Uneasy Allies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:07:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28315026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TsarinaTorment/pseuds/TsarinaTorment
Summary: One boat.  Two brothers.  A life-or-death game of Jenga.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	Steady Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gumnut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gumnut/gifts).



> My TAG Secret Santa 2020 contribution!
> 
> Prompts used: all of them but in true Tsari fashion I also twisted them so much they probably barely resemble the prompts at this point.
> 
> Virgil and many, many butterflies  
> Virgil has a puzzle to solve  
> Virgil and a brother go on a boat trip

"Eeeeaaasy."

Virgil didn't bother to glare at his brother, far too used to his distraction techniques. He didn't even spare him a glance, keeping his attention firmly on what he was doing. Gordon wanted him to fail, like the _supportive_ little brother he was, mostly because he inevitably had a bet on with Alan, and Virgil had far too much pride to let his younger brothers' schemes throw him off of his game.

He had the steadiest hands of all of his brothers. All four of them were too jittery, too used to _moving_ , whether it be the physical activity Scott and Gordon preferred, or the twitching at the tips of fingers over keyboards and virtual reality. Virgil was an artist, a pianist, an engineer. A _medic_. His hands didn't tremble unless he let them.

The tower in front of him wouldn't fall. Not on his turn.

Perfectly steady hands poked at a single block, careful yet confident. It moved, but its neighbours didn't. Gordon groaned loudly. Virgil ignored that, too, and once the block moved far enough, deftly plucked it from its fellows.

The tower didn't even wobble.

"How do you _do_ that?" Gordon groused, pouting at the stack. There were more holes than blocks in the Jenga tower now, and Virgil's latest move had left it teetering on the very edge of stable. Even he would struggle to get another out without nudging neighbouring blocks and bringing the whole thing crashing down. Gordon had no chance, and they both knew it.

But Gordon wasn't a quitter. Eyes narrowed in concentration and tongue stuck out the corner of his mouth, he surveyed the stack in front of him for several moments in silence, assessing. None of the blocks would go without pulling others down with them, Virgil knew, but Gordon still refused to throw the game.

Eyes almost slits, he selected his target and reached out to touch it.

"International Rescue, we have a situation."

_Clatter_.

"Aw, man!" Gordon complained, looking at the jumble of blocks in front of him. "That doesn't count! John knocked them down!"

"John's a hologram," Virgil reminded him, satisfied grin on his face. "That was no more of a distraction than you talking when I picked. My victory."

"What's the situation, John?" Scott cut in, ignoring them in preference of John as he always did when a call came in. With one last look at the still-pouting Gordon, Virgil turned his own attention to the projection of his brother.

"There's a large fishing trawler in distress," John said. "There was a small explosion in the engine room and now they're taking on water. The crew are requesting evacuation."

Virgil straightened up. He didn't need to look to know that Gordon had done the same, poised to dart for his Thunderbird the moment the brief was over.

"What caused the explosion?" he asked. John shrugged.

"The crew don't know," he said. "But the ship's sinking, so I suggest you launch. I'll see what I can find on the explosion."

"F.A.B.," Scott agreed. "Virgil, Gordon – you're up. I'll attend in Thunderbird One." Virgil didn't wait to hear anything else, standing up and heading over to the painting that concealed his launch chute and trusting his brothers to be doing the same. "Thunderbirds are go!"

Scott always loved saying that. He denied it, but Virgil knew his big brother.

John was efficient. By the time Virgil was sat in his pilot seat, Module Four selected and little brother rising up into the cockpit behind him, Thunderbird Two's navigation systems were updated with the precise location of the distressed trawler.

It wasn't too far, down in the waters south of Tasmania, and before long they got visual on the boat in question. It was listing to one side, figures crowded on deck. From the way they were waving up at Scott in Thunderbird One, Virgil thought it was a pretty safe bet that they were the crew.

"That boat's too big for Thunderbird Two to stabilise," Gordon noted. "I'll see what I can do from the water."

"F.A.B.," Virgil agreed.

"I'll drop down and help the evacuation," Scott said over the comms. "Virgil, stay overhead in Thunderbird Two and drop the rescue platform. It'll be a tight fit without the module, but once they're on board take them to the nearest port. John?"

"I've got their home port located," the ginger said. "Sending co-ordinates now."

"Once they're all evac'd, I'll look around and see if I can find what caused this," Scott continued. "If Gordon can get the hull patched, we'll get the GDF out to tow it to port."

"Sounds like a plan," Gordon said, hologram flickering to live next to John's on the dash. "Ready for module deployment, Virg."

"Dropping you now, Gords." He brought Thunderbird Two into a hover just above the water and released the module. The familiar shudder passed through his 'bird as she dropped her belly, and it was with a practiced hand that he kept her steady. Out of the window, he saw Scott bring Thunderbird One down before dropping the few feet onto the deck. The silver rocket soared back into the sky under remote control or autopilot – Virgil didn't know exactly which controls were being used but she wasn't slaved to Two – as Scott made his way to the crew.

Leaving his big brother to corral them, he focused on his own task, bringing Thunderbird Two overhead and getting ready to drop the rescue platform.

"How many guests am I expecting, Thunderbird Five?" he asked.

"Captain tells me there's ten," John told him. "Life signs agree."

"Gonna be cosy in here," he observed.

"Cosy or not, we're ready for evac, Thunderbird Two," Scott cut in.

"Copy that, Thunderbird One. Lowering the platform now."

Aside from the unknown cause of the explosion, it was about as standard as they got. Well, Virgil wasn't used to carrying an entire crew in his cockpit, but aside from that little detail, it was nice and simple.

"Scott, I've just picked up another life sign."

Well, it _was_ simple, until John dropped that little detail. Already leaving the danger zone, Virgil glanced over at the captain, sat in the co-pilot's seat.

"I thought we had the whole crew here?"

The captain looked shocked. "We do."

Virgil frowned. "Thunderbird One, all heads are accounted for."

"Thunderbird Two, keep going. I'll find our mystery person and evac them in One."

"I'll help you search, Thunderbird One," Gordon chipped in. "I've patched up the hole best I can; I'll leave Four here and join you."

"F.A.B., Thunderbird Four. Everything's under control here, Thunderbird Two," Scott assured him. "You get the crew to dry land."

"F.A.B.," Virgil agreed.

"I don't get it," the captain said, shaking his head. "There are only ten of us. Who's the other life sign?"

"If I had to guess, Captain," John said, "I'd say that's probably the cause of your explosion. Scott, Gordon, _be careful._ "

"Noted, Thunderbird Five. Gordon, I'll rendezvous with you on deck."

"F.A.B."

Both his brothers flickered out of sight, presumably switching to a private channel, and Virgil let out a breath, glancing over at the crew behind him. There weren't enough seats for all of them, so he couldn't go at his usual speeds, and inwardly he frowned. Even if it was Scott and Gordon, he didn't feel right leaving them with someone potentially dangerous and without backup.

But he had a job to do, and some people to get to shore.

The trip took longer than he was happy with, but once the crew were safely offloaded, he turned around and shot for the boat and his brothers as fast as Thunderbird Two could go.

"Scott, Gordon, you found our mystery life sign yet?"

His brothers flickered into view.

"Negative, Virgil. No sign of them yet. John keeps losing the signal. I'm guessing it must be some sort of cloaking device." Scott looked frustrated.

"I don't like this," Virgil said bluntly. "Call the GDF to deal with it and get off that boat. If you haven't found them yet they're trying not to be found."

The journey was much shorter when he could go at top speed. Thunderbird One was still hovering above the boat, gleaming silver from the sun.

"Virgil, this boat is still likely to sink. We've got to get them off," Scott argued. "We can't wait for the GDF."

"Scott's right, Virg," Gordon agreed. "We've got to- Scott! I saw them!"

He broke into a run, Scott seemingly hot on his heels.

" _Guys_ ," Virgil ground out. "Guys, if they don't want to-"

_BOOM._

The explosion rocked the boat; through the cockpit windows he saw it list from one side to the other, and then back again, noticeably lower in the water. The cabin was gone, replaced with timber sized matchsticks.

"Scott?" he shouted. "Gordon?"

His brother's holograms flickered once, twice, and then they vanished. No, no, _no_. Virgil didn't think, just reacted, pushing his 'bird forward the last short distance and firing the grapples down towards the once again sinking boat. As Gordon had noted earlier, it exceeded her lifting power, and VTOLs _shrieked_ as he gunned them with everything she had. His brothers were still down there, somewhere inside looking for their elusive lifesign, and he absolutely was not letting them slip from his grasp. Not now, not ever.

"Scott!" he shouted again, over the sound of Thunderbird Two's screaming engines. "Gordon! Come in!"

Autopilot couldn't keep the pressure on the VTOLs; if he tried to leave the cockpit and find them himself, the boat would sink. Even on manual pilot, Thunderbird Two couldn't hold it for long. A shudder ran through his 'bird and he grit his teeth. He wasn't Scott, but he still solved problems. Logistics. Thunderbird Two was at maximum lift strength; her engines would burn out if he kept this up.

His brothers were still down there, unresponsive. He couldn't risk that.

Module Four was floating on the swell of the waves, waiting for Thunderbird Four's return. The bright sub was under the waterline; he could just about see her through the ocean swell. Remote controlling her was difficult, and he didn't know precisely what Gordon had done with her to latch her to the boat. She was also their backup exit if their route to the deck was blocked.

After the explosion, it probably was.

So he couldn't move Thunderbird Four. Gordon would know exactly where he'd left his 'bird, and would be making for her if they hadn't been incapacitated by the explosion. With neither of them picking up comms, Virgil knew better than to cling to a false hope, but he still couldn't risk it, just in case they were fine and it was just some damaged radios.

He _did_ have Thunderbird One. Her lifting power was nowhere near that of Thunderbird Two's, but combined, it might just be enough to keep the boat from sinking. It was now an inconvenience that Scott hadn't slaved her console to his, but he could still override her from Thunderbird Two, and unlike Thunderbird Four, there was no way she'd be of use to his brothers in the boat.

Jaw set, he flicked the control pad and jabbed in the override code for Thunderbird One, slaving her to her sister's controls before remote piloting her to the more laden end of the ship. One high-tensile grapple cable fired.

It missed. He didn't have Scott's precision, or Gordon's innate dead aim. Those thoughts got pushed away as he reeled the cable back in to send out a second time. The ship below him had to be secured – _before_ Thunderbird Two's VTOL overheated. He could worry about finding his brothers once he knew the ship wasn't sinking any more.

The second shot caught, the light going green to represent the _clang_ of success he couldn't hear over Thunderbird Two's engines. Thunderbird One's VTOLs joined the chorus; a cacophony of sound so loud he could barely hear himself think. It was enough.

Just.

Virgil still couldn't risk autopilot on Thunderbird Two, the weight remaining beyond her official lifting parameters. If it wasn't for Brains' over-engineering, she wouldn't be holding even with her sister's help.

"John!" he called. Unlike his missing brothers, the ginger appeared immediately. "They're not picking up. Do you have their signals?"

John looked annoyed, and a little worried. That wasn't good.

"Their location transmitters are still working," he said. "But I can't get either of them to respond, either."

"Take control of Thunderbird Two," Virgil ordered. "I'm going to get them."

"F.A.B. Taking control of both Thunderbirds One and Two now."

The holographic symbol for Thunderbird Five flashed up over his controls, and Virgil released his grip on them, trusting John – or EOS – to keep the boat from sinking.

Now he had two brothers to save.

"Locations, John?"

"They're both in the engine room," his brother told him, the boat's schematics appearing over his wrist controller as he hurried along the internal corridors of his 'bird. Her module was detached, floating too far away to reach, but Virgil made it a point to have one Jaws of Life accessible at all times. Just in case.

That just in case paid off as he reached the small storage room, filled with spare gear – and a half-eaten celery crunch bar. He ignored it, but made a mental note to remind Gordon where food was and wasn't permitted on Thunderbird Two later. Once his brothers were safe.

" _Bzzt!"_

Static erupted from his wrist controller just as he began to shrug on the mechanical exosuit and he paused, tapping at it to try and clear the signal.

" _Bzzt! -irgil? Bzztin -Two!_ "

"Gordon?" The static was bad, but Virgil still recognised his brother's voice. "Gordon, can you hear me?"

"I'll try to boost the signal," John said. Virgil nodded distractedly, his focus on his comm as it crackled again.

" _-ear you,"_ Gordon confirmed amongst more static. " _-dio damaged. Bzzt-bzzt-pair job._ "

"What's your status?" He resumed suiting up, unwilling to waste a moment if his brother was trapped.

" _-t great,"_ his comm crackled. _"Not hurt bzzt-ott bzzt cold._ "

Virgil frowned, trying to parse what his brother had said through the static.

"Say again, Gordon?"

" _Bzzt-t hurt bzzt Scott-bzzt-t cold."_

That was either _Scott's cold_ or _Scott's out cold_ , and considering the lack of communication from his older brother, Virgil decided to assume it was the latter. That was a problem, but not an insurmountable one.

"I'm on my way down to you," he declared, Jaws of Life now settled over him. "Any idea what caused the explosion?"

" _-egative, Virg. It's bzzt-gerous."_ Virgil scowled, hearing Gordon's _too dangerous_ protest and wondering if he thought for one moment that that would stop him. _"-ther problem. Bzzt-bzzt-"_

" _-me a probl-bzzt?"_ another, unfamiliar voice cut in. Sharp, female. Their missing life sign?

" _-ou-bzzt been goo-bzzt-bzzt-fore,"_ Gordon retorted.

"Gordon?" Virgil cut in. "What's the problem?"

" _-os Crew bzzt-bzzt."_ Whatever else Gordon had to say was lost in a snow of static, but Virgil had heard enough to start piecing it all together. Chaos Crew. Explosions. Unfamiliar female voice.

Gordon, and presumably an unconscious Scott, were with Havoc, and Fuse was running around somewhere with no eyes on him.

"Gordon, I'm coming," he said, cutting off whatever the static was supposed to be. He hoped their connection was better on his brother's end. "John's given me your location."

" _No!"_ Gordon protested, but Virgil ignored him as he left the safety of Thunderbird Two to slide down one of the cables holding the boat up. The roar of the engines drowned out anything coming from his comms for several long moments before his boots hit the surface of the deck.

He'd known it was bad, but this was _worse_. His comms spluttered at him but he ignored Gordon's static-garbled protests that he'd left his 'bird in favour of reassessing the situation.

Virgil was no Scott, able to take everything in at a glance and make snap decisions, but he had an eye for detail and the patience to spend an extra moment looking things over before acting. It was that eye that told him this was not going to be easy.

The main entrance to get below deck – he was sure it had a name but that was Gordon's area and Virgil might not be Scott but right now he did _not_ have the time to waste on remembering it – was entirely collapsed in, the cabin so much steel and timber covering it and well and truly trapping anyone down below. According to the schematics, that was the _only_ way down.

This was why Virgil had the Jaws of Life with him.

"Virgil." John's voice overrode Gordon's crackling with an urgency that demanded his attention right that moment. "I can't boost their radio signals any further, but I _did_ manage to boost their suit telemetry and get a more detailed scan of the compartment they're trapped in."

"Let me guess," Virgil sighed, stomping over to the mangled mess of former-cabin and starting to calculate the best way to clear it. "Bad news?"

"Scott's helmet's taken some damage, probably from the initial blast, and his oxygen supply is depleted." Virgil frowned as he identified the first bit of rubble that needed to go – a large sheet of mangled metal that was probably part of the cabin's roof or walls.

"So they can't swim for it? That's not a problem unless their compartment starts to flood," he observed. It wasn't _ideal_ , and if Scott's helmet was damaged that confirmed that he was probably unconscious, but he trusted Gordon to do any initial first aid until he got there.

He ignored the uneasy feeling in his stomach.

"Yeah," John said in that flat way that meant _bad news_. "About that."

Uh oh. "It's already flooding?"

"Got it in one. The flow's reasonably slow and the compartment's quite big so they've got time, but I'd estimate ten minutes and they'll be under."

"And with Scott unconscious he can't hold his breath." Virgil scowled and shifted the metal with more force than he should have done. The diluted _clang_ of metal on deck reverberated through his boots.

"I imagine Gordon-"

"Hey, watch it!" John's speculation – probably on how Gordon, their resident aquanaut and underwater rescue specialist, was going to get oxygen to Scott when his helmet was damaged and didn't fit Gordon's rebreather anyway – was cut off by a disgruntled exclamation from behind him.

Virgil turned to see unmistakable purple armour, and wondered how on earth he'd missed Fuse coming up behind him.

"You almost hit me with that!" the young man griped, but his heart didn't seem to be in the accompanying pout. Instead, he was hurrying forwards, almost frantically, and Virgil remembered that Fuse was reportedly Havoc's brother. "What are you doing throwing metal around on a ship full of explosives?"

"What?"

Virgil hadn't seen any more explosives. There weren't supposed to be explosives on the ship.

Fuse hurried past him – probably as fast as he could run in that suit – and started digging through the pile. Metal and wood creaked in protest at him and Virgil clapped a hand on his shoulder, forcing him back.

"Hey! Careful or you'll bring the lot down."

"I left a charge around here," Fuse told him, and Virgil took a deep breath. "They weren't supposed to go off yet!" He sounded panicked and even though it was blindingly obvious this whole thing was Fuse's fault – probably directed by the Hood – Virgil couldn't help but slip into reassuring rescuer mode. That was what he _did_ , after all.

"Okay, okay, take a breath," he instructed, eyeing the pile of former cabin warily as he tugged Fuse to take a step back. The young man resisted, but Virgil was stronger and he stumbled a single pace away from the pile. "How many explosives are on the ship?"

Fuse glanced around, clearly nervous and slightly scared. Virgil could relate, but he'd been doing the job long enough to compartmentalise that part of his brain and still-fluttering stomach. "Uh… I'm not sure. Nine or ten? I think? I just put them where the Boss said to."

The silence in his ear from a definitely-eavesdropping John turned frosty, even though his brother still didn't say a word. No doubt he was about to do his best to wreak hell on the elusive criminal.

"And how many haven't gone off?" How much of a ticking timebomb was this ship he was stood on – the ship his brothers were _trapped_ in and slowly running out of air as the water seeped in, the ship three Thunderbirds were attached to?

"Only one went off," Fuse said. He was wringing his hands, still glancing around nervously. "It shouldn't have gone off until Havoc was clear. He said she'd be _safe_!"

"Well, she's trapped with my brothers somewhere down there," Virgil pointed out. "Where are those explosives and how long do we have until they go off?"

"Five minutes," Fuse gulped. "I think. But that one went off early and the others are all close enough that if one goes…"

"They all go," Virgil realised with a sigh. He assessed the situation again. "You want Havoc out of there, I want my brothers out. There's five minutes, tops, until this boat blows." Those ten minutes of air didn't seem significant any more. He took a breath. "We're going to have to work together on this."

Fuse glanced sideways, thinking, and Virgil fervently hoped that he loved his sister _more_ than he feared the Hood. John hadn't warned him about the explosives, which meant Thunderbird Five hadn't picked them up – the Chaos Crew's cloaking technology was something Brains and Kayo were _itching_ to get their hands on. That meant that if he had to do it alone, he was working blind. Five minutes to disarm nine or ten explosives… even with the person who had made and placed them with him, it was going to be _tight_.

It felt like an eternity before Fuse sighed and met his gaze. "Okay."

_Okay_. Plan of action time. "We need to get those bombs disarmed as quickly as possible," Virgil said, knowing the words were redundant but saying them all the same. "Tell me where they are and how to disarm them, and we'll take half each." A minute per bomb – just under. He could do that, except Fuse was wringing his hands again.

"I don't know how to turn them off."

"What!" Virgil didn't panic – was the _last_ of his brothers to ever panic in a given situation – but he was starting to get really, really close. "You _make_ them! How do you not know how to disarm them?"

"I-I've never had to!" Fuse protested, and right then he'd never looked more like a kid. Virgil took a deep breath, pushing the panic back because this just made things a lot harder but he wasn't giving up. Not now and not ever.

"We don't have time for this," he ground out. "Do you have one with you that isn't primed?"

Fuse nodded jerkily and reached behind him, withdrawing the familiar purple triangle of a Chaos Crew bomb. Virgil took it gingerly and wasted no time in slipping an arm out of the Jaws of Life to palm a hexdriver and pry the cover off. Five minutes – probably four, now – to work out how to disarm them, teach Fuse, and then get nine-or-ten bombs disarmed.

Easy peasy.

The crisscrossed wires that greeted him weren't complex, thankfully. If they were, then no amount of miracles would have been enough to pull it off. But it was a simple enough wire pattern; only two wires needed cutting to render them useless.

Well, they could have done with knowing that several times in the past. If all Fuse's bombs were like this, that was a lot of explosions they could stop. But he didn't have time to muse on that right now.

"You have a hexdriver and wirecutter?" he asked Fuse, who shook his head. Silently despairing – and starting to wonder if the Hood's plan wasn't to one day blow the kid up with his own bombs – Virgil fished out spares from his toolbelt and handed them over. "Okay, it's simple enough, luckily for us. Pop the cover, and cut these two wires." He pointed, and then demonstrated by doing it on the one in his hand. "Those two. Got it?"

Fuse stared at the bomb, swallowed loud enough for Virgil to hear it, then nodded.

"Yeah, I got it."

For the sake of everyone on the boat, Virgil really hoped he did.

"Okay, so where are they? Time's running out." Somewhere, Virgil noticed that Gordon's static had ceased buzzing in his ear, and really hoped that was John's doing and not because he'd lost what little contact he had with his younger brother. He didn't have _time_ to worry about that now, not with three and a half minutes and five bombs to disarm.

Luckily, with a plan of action in place, Fuse seemed to regain both his confidence and his memory, bringing up a schematic of the ship and highlighting the ten points he'd fixed bombs to.

"That's the one that went off," he said, indicating one inside the cabin area. It was positioned to do exactly what it had managed and cripple the cabin, Virgil noticed. The others were all scattered around the deck, ensuring no escape if any of them went off. Whoever had been trapped by the initial explosion would never stand a chance.

Three minutes, five bombs.

"I'll take these five," Virgil said, pointing at the ones on the left of the boat – _port side,_ Gordon's voice whispered in his head. "You take the other four."

Fuse nodded and then they moved. Trusting Fuse – trusting a member of the Chaos Crew – felt like something heavy in his gut but Virgil had no choice. He couldn't trust Fuse, not really, not after everything the guy had done, but he could and had to trust Fuse's love for his sister. He stood to lose almost as much as Virgil did if he didn't help.

_That_ , Virgil clung to as he found the first purple bomb, merrily flashing red at him. Popping the cover was harder when it was fixed down to something, but Virgil wasn't going to let _anything_ stop him and the purple casing was no match for a Tracy on a mission. Two quick but steady snips of the wirecutter later, and that was one down, four to go.

Onto the next.

He reached the fifth and final one with thirty seconds to go. Plenty of time, but the casing didn't pop off when he levered at it like all of the others had. Instead, it bent alarmingly, and the red flashing light sped up, much like Virgil's heartrate was doing. He tried tackling it from another angle, but the cover might as well have been superglued for all the luck he was having.

Fuse let out a shout that sounded triumphant from the other end of the boat, and Virgil took a deep breath. Fifteen seconds, and this was the last one. If Fuse was telling the truth, but Fuse had to be telling the truth otherwise his sister was going to die, too.

Ten seconds, and the cover still _refused to budge_. He wasn't going to get it disarmed in time, but Virgil wasn't giving up. Not now, not _ever_.

Five seconds and he finished cutting around the part of the boat it was fixed to with his laser. He didn't know how big the blast radius was going to be, but the further from the boat it was, the better their odds.

He was still wearing the Jaws of Life. Virgil wasn't the best pitcher in the world, but he had mechanical assistance and the steadfast determination that _no-one's dying today_. With barely two seconds left, the bomb was hurtling through the air, away from the boat into the open ocean.

It barely reached the water before exploding, sending a shockwave that rocked the boat and had Virgil stumbling backwards, colliding with the cable from Thunderbird One. Above him, VTOL continued to scream their displeasure.

He took a moment to breathe, stomach churning its way back to stability one breath at a time, before pushing himself upright again.

The rescue wasn't over yet. The bombs were gone, but there was only five minutes left until the compartment his brothers were in flooded. Gordon had plenty of oxygen and could hold his breath another five minutes, easily. Longer, if he was prepared. He had no idea what Havoc's condition was, beyond 'conscious and sniping with Gordon last he heard', but Scott was unconscious and while Virgil had every faith that Gordon would be able to work _something_ out, the fact was that they hadn't gone into the rescue expecting to need extra oxygen, and Gordon's supplies were mostly in Thunderbird Four.

He trusted Gordon, but the hard number he had was five minutes before Scott was at risk of drowning.

His comm crackled into life, Gordon's voice barely audible past the static, but he couldn't make out a single word his brother was saying. That didn't stop him from hearing the underlying panic.

"Gordon, I can't hear you," he replied, pulling himself together and heading back towards the ruined cabin, where Fuse was staring somewhat blankly at the pile of rubble between them and their siblings. "John, is there any way to clear this static?"

"It's physical damage to the unit, so there's nothing I can do," his brother said, sounding rather annoyed at the failure of their communications. Virgil didn't blame him. "But after that shockwave, the boat seems to have taken more damage. The compartment's filling faster now. I'd estimate you have two minutes, three at most, before they're underwater."

So much for five minutes.

"Any _good_ news for me, John?"

"You… seem to be working with Fuse rather well?" his brother offered. "Otherwise, I'm afraid not. Communications are still down, as you're finding, I don't know any more than you do on their conditions, and both Thunderbirds are struggling to keep the boat up. Once you've got them out you'll need to move fast."

"So no breathing room until we're off this sinking boat," Virgil summarised. "Thanks, John."

"Just get them out," his brother responded.

Virgil slid his arm back into the Jaws of Life and felt the technology whirr around him as he returned to Fuse's side and the jumble of debris between him and his brothers.

"Does Havoc have an oxygen supply?" he asked. "They'll be underwater in less than three minutes."

"If it's not damaged," Fuse slumped, reaching for the mishmash of former-cabin. "Her radio's damaged and I can't contact her."

"Well I heard her over what little communication I've got with my brothers, so she's conscious," Virgil reassured him. "We just have to get them out." He eyed the mess in front of him and shook his head. Move the wrong bit and it'd probably all go crashing down. "Just like Jenga. You any good at that?"

Fuse shook his head. "Don't play that sort of game."

"In that case, stand back," Virgil told him. "I'm _good_ at Jenga." Although admittedly he'd never played it with people's lives on the line before, or on a time limit.

The load-bearing chunks of broken cabin were easy enough to pinpoint, and it was with all the confidence of years of heavy lifting that he cleared away all the loose debris so that it wouldn't fall when he moved the heavier ones later. Still, he was ever-conscious of the time slipping away from him, and it only took one jerky move to send a cascade of small segments tumbling down, past the load-bearing sections and into the belly of the ship.

Less haste, more speed, he scolded himself, but the action had actually cleared the immediate issue; the load-bearing struts were no longer load-bearing, and with a mechanical whine, the Jaws of Life made short work relocating them to clear the area.

One minute down, one to go, and he still had to find his brothers. They were still in the engine room, and the fact that they hadn't moved told him that they must be stuck there. Unconscious Scott or not, Gordon would have moved them as close to the exit as he could get.

Unless Havoc…

No, he refused to let that cross his mind. Fuse was working with him to make sure Havoc was safe. Surely Havoc was smart enough to know that working with Gordon would be better for her than being hostile. He'd even heard Gordon's garbled tones over the comms not two minutes earlier. Havoc wasn't the problem, not this time.

The problem was the collapsed corridor between him and the engine room.

Time was ticking, the fluttering in his stomach that had died down was back in full force because he could hear the water sloshing around on the other side of the barricade but not his brothers, and there was an entire collapsed section of corridor in the way.

If he couldn't hear Gordon sniping with Havoc or trying to rouse Scott, they were probably already underwater. If Scott hadn't regained consciousness, his life was entirely in Gordon's hands right now, and while there were no hands Virgil trusted more given the situation the fear was curling up inside him that he was too late.

No.

He took a deep breath.

He was _not_ too late. He was going to get them out of there and he was going to do it _now_.

Virgil had steady hands. He was an artist, a pianist, an engineer. No matter how much his stomach fluttered as though an entire swarm of frantic butterflies had taken up residence and his heart raced to the rhythm of a bomb's flickering red light moments before detonation, his hands stayed steady.

It was those steady hands that reached out and directed the mechanical hands of the Jaws of Life to dig their way through the jumble of broken boat in his way. Fast, but steady and sure as he stopped letting himself think about lifeless bodies and instead remembered the game of Jenga he'd been having with Gordon just before the call came in. Jenga was easy, a simple logistics puzzle, and Virgil slipped into that mindset. All the turns were his, the tower of blocks was a mass of broken boat, and Virgil hadn't lost a game of Jenga in years.

That record was not breaking now.

Debris piled up beside him, and at some point Fuse had followed him down, but Virgil's focus was on the shimmering surface of rising water as he broke through the precariously-balanced debris. A blur of purple almost knocked him over, but while Havoc was strong, she was slight and he caught her – sopping wet and clearly fuming – by the shoulders.

"Go careful or it'll fall down on top of you," he warned her. She scoffed and shrugged him off before hurrying past him, but she wasn't his concern any more, not when there was IR blue with a bright splash of yellow breaking the surface of the water and taking in a huge lungful of air.

Gordon was helmetless, blond hair plastered to his face as water trailed down his skin as though he was in the swimming pool at home. Aside from the deep breaths he was taking after holding his breath for however long, he seemed fine, and Virgil's attention snapped to the limp body he was clutching.

The yellow-rimmed helmet jammed on Scott's head and creatively secured with far too much insulation tape to keep it air and water tight did not belong to his eldest brother. It didn't fit right – hence the need for the insulation tape – and was definitely too small, but Gordon's yellow rebreather was attached to it and while it was an unorthodox solution that Scott would be complaining about later, Virgil had no doubt it had saved his life.

"Good thinking," he praised, reaching down to take Scott from his brother. "Injuries?"

As soon as he had hold of him, Gordon was scrabbling at the tape, ripping it off in a way that was bound to smart Scott later. "Not that I don't _like_ hugs, but there's no way we're getting through that tunnel tied together," the aquanaut said in a rush. He was right; the rebreather was still attached to Gordon's baldric and getting Scott out was going to be difficult enough without them being linked together. "I'm fine, wasn't near the blast, but Scott got hit in the head by the debris and it smashed his helmet. He's been out of it since everything went boom." That worried Virgil, but what worried him more was how long it was taking Gordon to get the helmet off of Scott's head.

The water level was still rising.

"Ah _hah!_ " Gordon exclaimed triumphantly as the last of the tape came off and he was able to detach the rebreather and reclaim his helmet. Trusting his fish of a brother to get himself out of the water, especially now he had his helmet back, Virgil turned his attention to Scott and hauled the limp body clear of the flooded room.

Despite the helmet, his hair was still wet. Virgil latched onto that observation as he pulled him over his shoulder and headed back for the exit as fast as he could. Behind him, the familiar sound of wet flippers reassured him that Gordon was following, but also told him that the water levels were still rising.

"Thunderbird One's VTOLs are overheating," John said suddenly, his voice grim. "She won't hold much longer."

Virgil frowned. If Thunderbird One went down in the ocean, she'd be all but impossible to retrieve and he really didn't need any more delays. He eyed the end of the corridor, knowing that somewhere, Fuse and Havoc were ahead of him.

"Any sign of the Chaos Crew?" he asked, speeding up as much as he dared. A jolt in the wrong place would bring the debris down on top of them. Water sloshed around his ankles.

"I've lost them." He could imagine John shaking his head. "I'd assume that means they're in their ship and clear."

Virgil was going to have to take that chance.

"Is Thunderbird Four still attached to the boat?" Gordon asked. Virgil had all but forgotten the little yellow sub, but John confirmed it and he nodded, realising that with his comms still down, Gordon couldn't hear their brother.

"John, cut Thunderbird One loose and get Thunderbird Four back to the module," he said.

"Are you sure? Thunderbird Two can't take the full weight of the boat for long," John reminded him.

Virgil reached the end of the corridor, water somewhere near the top of his boots, and gestured for Gordon to go on ahead. The aquanaut started to frown, then glanced at Scott and acquiesced.

"I'm sure," he said, watching Gordon scramble up to the deck. "We can't afford Thunderbird One crashing, and Thunderbird Two can hold long enough."

She had to.

"EOS has Thunderbird Four," John informed him. "She'll be back in the module in approximately forty seconds. I'll cut Thunderbird One loose once you're on the deck. Not before."

Virgil supposed that was as good a reason as any to hurry. Gordon was clear, leaning back in to take Scott, and he passed their brother up to him before heaving his way out.

True to John's word, above them Thunderbird One jerked skywards, disengaging from the boat. Her VTOLs were spluttering painfully, and in the blink of an eye John had her diverting power to the rear thrusters and jetting off for home.

Thunderbird Two _squealed_ , a noise that shot right through Virgil as the boat juddered and lurched beneath his feet. A resounding crash from below deck told him that his careful Jenga of debris had toppled entirely, but they were all clear so that didn't matter now.

What mattered was getting onboard Thunderbird Two as she juddered and shrieked in protest at the weight Virgil was asking her to hold up, just a little longer.

"Thirty seconds before her engines reach critical," John warned him. "Get on board _now_."

Gordon had hold of Scott, one hand clinging to the deck while the other clutched his brother's unmoving form close. A particularly large lurch had Virgil crashing down, landing on one knee and forcing him to stabilise himself with one of his claws. Above them, swinging violently with the Thunderbird's movement, the cockpit platform lowered.

If all three of them were conscious, they'd make it. But Scott's eyes were still closed, and either Virgil or Gordon needed to sacrifice their hands to keep hold of him. Hands that were very much needed to keep their own balance and scramble onto the platform.

Gordon knew it, too. Virgil could see it in his eyes.

"Go," he said, reaching to take Scott. "Get on board."

"Not a chance," Gordon disagreed. "I'm the aquanaut. If anyone's going in the water, it's me. You're weighed down by the exosuit."

He was right, but Virgil didn't want to admit it. He'd only just managed to get Scott and Gordon _out_ of the water; the last thing he wanted was either of them going back in, but Thunderbird Two's lurching was getting worse and he could hear her VTOLs starting to splutter.

"How about you all _move_ and no-one goes in the water?" John snapped in his ear. "Virgil, _get on the platform_." He sounded half angry, half terrified. Not for the first time, Virgil decided that he did _not_ envy his older brother's job.

Another lurch sent all three of them sprawling sideways, slamming them against the side of the deck and further from the rescue platform. Something went clatter.

Virgil saw something fall past him, but before he could register what it was, there was a dull _thunk_ , like the sound of one of their cables hitting the deck, and the ship lurched back upright.

"What the hell?" Gordon muttered. "What was- _oh_."

_Oh_ indeed.

Virgil looked at the cable that had just appeared where Thunderbird One's had been, heard Thunderbird Two's VTOLs quiet down just a tad as something else took the strain, and followed the thick grey line up to see a purple and grey machine spluttering away.

"I guess she didn't hate me after all," Gordon quipped, but Virgil could hear the wide-eyed surprise in his voice.

There wasn't time to wonder why the Chaos Cruiser was helping them. The little thing was even less equipped to hold the boat up than Thunderbird One had been, and wouldn't last long. But the little clatter had reminded him of something he really shouldn't have forgotten in the first place.

"Gordon, hand me Scott's grapple launcher."

There was a split second pause before Gordon dove for their brother's baldric. "Oh, we're idiots. Virgil, get moving."

"Gordon-"

"I'm the better shot, and also less weight," his brother argued. "Get moving." The aquanaut didn't even wait for him to agree before firing straight at the hole in the bottom of the cockpit. It was a bulls' eye, of course, and Virgil stifled a reflex noise of complaint as he scooped Scott up and scrambled for the rescue platform.

It was still rocking, the Chaos Cruiser not strong enough to fully stabilise the boat, but with stubborn determination and a healthy dose of grappling using the Jaws of Life, he fumbled his way onto the platform, Scott in a heap beside him. The familiar whirring of a grapple cable – and seriously, why _hadn't_ they remembered Scott had those until one of his grapple packs had fallen out of his baldric – heralded Gordon swinging in on a rapidly-shortening cable, and with a sigh of relief that sounded an awful lot like _finally_ , John set the platform rising back into the cockpit.

Just before they were swallowed up by his 'bird, Virgil found himself looking out at the Chaos Cruiser. Havoc and Fuse both stared back, one gaze cold as ice, the other warmer than he'd expected. Then it cloaked, shimmering into invisibility, and he was staring at the inside of his cockpit.

Thunderbird Two juddered, and the red warning lights shut off.

"I cut her loose," John said from his wrist before he could panic. "I'll get her to pick up Thunderbird Four, and then she's heading for home, unless Scott needs a hospital?"

Scott. It was against regulations and Virgil was going to be grumbling at himself for it later, but he disengaged the Jaws of Life entirely and stepped out of it, leaving it loose in the cockpit. Gordon had already crouched down next to their brother, and was poking Scott's cheek.

The malcontent grumble he got was music to Virgil's ears. "He's waking up, John, but I'll do a scan just to be sure." Bleary blue eyes blinked at him as he held the scanner up, and Gordon broke into a relieved grin.

"Hey, bro," he beamed. "Nice to see you back."

"Ow," Scott rasped as the scan flashed up a group of ambers but no reds. Nothing they couldn't handle at home. "What did I miss?"

"Nothing particularly exciting," Gordon told him airily, in that tone that all older brothers knew meant trouble. Virgil was pleased to see Scott squinting at him suspiciously. "Just a woman with a very sharp tongue and an extended swimming session. Pretty fun, actually!"

"Your idea of fun concerns me," Virgil drawled, but kept his eyes on Scott, who was already pushing himself to sit up. "John, I think home is fine."

"F.A.B." His brother didn't even bother hiding the relief in his voice.

"Do I _want_ to know?" Scott asked, voice dripping with suspicion. It was a rhetorical question – he'd be hounding them for every last detail before the day was done.

"Know that we maybe kinda just a little might need to be a smidge thankful for the Chaos Crew saving our butts?" Gordon asked in that same sunny tone. "Probably not."

"We saved them first," Virgil clarified before Scott could explode. "Long story short, your last life sign was Havoc, one of the explosives Fuse planted went off too soon which knocked you out and trapped you two with Havoc in the engine room, and then I had to teach Fuse how to disarm his own bombs before the rest of them went off, then dig you three out."

Scott groaned and put a hand to his head. "I think I must be hallucinating, because I could have sworn you just said you taught Fuse to disarm his own bombs."

"I wish it was all in your head, Scott, but no, that actually happened," Virgil admitted. "Come on, let's get you in a seat." He looped Scott's arm around his shoulders and grabbed his waist before hoisting him up. Gordon hovered on his other side as they made the short few steps to one of the passenger seats and Scott sank down into it.

"Thunderbird One?"

"John's sent her home already." Virgil decided against mentioning the damage to her VTOLs. He didn't want to be in the room when Scott found out about that. "You were unconscious for fifteen minutes, Scott." Was it really only fifteen minutes? The whole thing had felt so much longer. "You're piloting nowhere until Grandma gives you the all clear."

Scott groaned, but it was his normal groan of annoyance at being grounded and not one of pain. Still, Virgil checked his head with his fingers, which Scott suffered with his usual bad grace. A lump, but no cut – fortunate, considering his unintended swim – and otherwise seemed in pretty good shape considering his spate of unconsciousness. Virgil snapped a cold pack and prodded his brother into holding it against his head.

"And keep it there," he warned. The eye roll he got in response should have annoyed him but was really just another reassurance.

"So are you going to tell me what happened?" Scott asked. "Because so far I don't believe a word of it."

"Unfortunately, big bro, it's all true," Gordon drawled. He'd sprawled himself out over the co-pilot's chair, arms folded behind his head and flippers on the dash. Virgil glowered but the squid ignored him. "Chaos Crew got involved but ended up helping us out. Rather begrudgingly, in Havoc's case. Virg had Fuse, so he's the one to ask about him."

"He was worried about his sister," Virgil shrugged. "Family loyalty trumps his loyalty to the Hood, apparently."

"I can believe that," Gordon shrugged.

Scott sighed. "This all sounds ridiculous. Let's just go home."

Virgil grinned. "That's the plan, Scott."

"Besides, Virg still owes me a rematch," Gordon injected. "Johnny ruined our last game."

"You ruined your own game," the ginger sniped, proving that he was still eavesdropping. "I had nothing to do with it."

"I think I'm done with Jenga for the day," Virgil admitted, pressing his hand over Scott's on the cool pack as his brother's grip slackened. A quick check on his brother proved it was just Scott trying to escape treatment again, rather than anything concerning. "How about chess?"

Gordon squinted at him in confusion. "You know you'll lose."

Virgil smirked. "We'll see."

**Author's Note:**

> Not particularly Christmassy, but it was really fun to write even if I kinda twisted the prompts until they barely resembled the originals. Whoops.
> 
> Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays, and thanks for reading!  
> Tsari


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